Lance Sanson walks the track at Gulfview during the Naples Relay for Life Saturday evening.
Lance Shearer/Citizen Correspondent

Naples fitness enthusiast Lance Sanson pedals in a spin class at LA Fitness. Sanson is using the Relay for Life, and a "Tough Mudder" event, as warmups for a challenge called the "Death Race." Lance Shearer/Citizen Correspondent

Lance Sanson, kneeling in front at last year's Spartan Death Race, is once again participating in the grueling event this year. To get himself prepared, Sanson walked 16 hours straight in the Naples Relay for Life and followed it up the next day by running in a Tough Mudder event.
Submitted photo

When the Naples Relay for Life kicked off last Saturday, one participant literally went the distance, walking the entire 16 hours and covering approximately 60 miles on foot.

That might seem like a lot of exertion, but for Lance Sanson, it was just a warmup for a warmup. Sanson takes fitness to an extreme. The Naples resident, a transplant from Fairfax, Va., said he was delighted to participate in the Relay for Life with the team from Moorings Park, where he represents food-service purveyor Guest Services. But that was just the beginning of his odyssey.

As soon as the Relay for Life ended, he jumped into his car, not pausing for as much as a shower — "I knew I'd be getting dirty," he said — and headed for Clewiston, to take on a "Tough Mudder" challenge, a grueling endurance contest that bills itself as "probably the toughest event on the planet." And all of that was merely preparation for Sanson's ultimate goal this summer, a 48-hour-plus obstacle course in June called the "Death Race" with the charmingly named website "youmaydie.com."

"This race is a 48-plus hour event that is created to break you physically, mentally and emotionally. All of you will enter, 90 percent of you won't finish. Only consider this race if you have lived a full life to date," the Death Race website adds helpfully.

At least Sanson knows what he is getting into, and is not taking on this challenge blindly. He entered the Death Race last year, and estimates between entry fees, gear and travel expenses, it cost him $2,500. The medical costs are something else. All that Sanson got out of last year's Death Race was two broken fingers.

"I was running downhill in the dark, fell and my hand smacked into a boulder," he explained, which explains the broken fingers but not necessarily why he is going back for more. He persevered for another 10 hours after the fall, broken fingers and all, before finally throwing in the towel.

Those who do finish the Death Race get a trophy in the shape of a skull, and presumably bragging rights among those to whom the accomplishment is a badge of honor, rather than evidence that perhaps protective custody is called for.

"It's sort of like being a kid again," said Sanson, who ascribes his strong attachment — no one said the word ‘mania' — to getting and staying in shape in concern for his own daughter, age 8.

"I made a commitment to stay healthy and be there for her, and see her kids when they come. I'm going to try and live as long as she does, but she said she wants to win in the end. I'm 46, and arguably in the best shape of my life," he said, which incidentally means he is a generation older than many of those who will be joining him in these extreme events. At 6 feet tall and 172 pounds, Sanson has a body mass index of 24 and a resting pulse rate of 48.

We recently caught up with Sanson at LA Fitness on Vanderbilt Road, where he came for one of his regular lengthy workout sessions. He was climbing on the Stairmaster, wearing a 40-pound backpack.

"This simulates hills, as much as we can do around here," he said. After the stair climber, he picked up two 45-pound weights, along with the backpack, and did a few laps around the gym. Without a break, he jumped on the bars for pullups, and dropped to the floor for pushups, before heading into a spin class in a room full of stationary bicycles.

"He's definitely dedicated," spin instructor Rebecca Tenhoopen said of Sanson. "He does double classes, and he's a hardcore sprinter." Sanson finished up the five-hour session with some work on his core and a 10-mile run.

The "C" word, as in "crazy," comes up often, said Sanson.

"People think I'm insane. ‘Why do you put yourself through this?' they ask. Professional athletes train like this, but that's how they make their living."

Sanson is going to the Death Race with a partner, Steven Goelzer, also of Fairfax, Va., Sanson's former home, who is a personal trainer, if not a professional athlete, and a bit younger at 30.

"Lance motivated me to try this. You kind of push your body through it and see what comes out at the other end. I don't know what we'll have to do," said Goelzer. One feature of the Death Race is that uncertainty, with details of the course and expectations kept secret before the event.

The Relay for Life, on the other hand, is more of a known quantity, and all Sanson had to do there was walk for 16 hours straight, which he said was good preparation for the sleep deprivation component of the Death Race.

Moorings Park had one of the largest teams in the Naples Relay for Life, which is the number one Relay for Life in Florida, said team captain Tessa Millikan, who as partner wellness coach, involved with keeping the staff healthy, was up all night with Sanson, although her responsibilities didn't allow her to walk every moment.

"We're excited by his quest," said Millikan. "It's amazing the extremity he goes to with his body."

The Tough Mudder challenge, which for many is the pinnacle of an extreme fitness contest, was "nothing," said Sanson. It did include elements such as the "Arctic enema," a plunge into a tank filled with icy water, with barbed wire to make sure everyone gets totally immersed.

"That does more than wake you up," said Sanson. "It's like a brain freeze from a Slurpee over your entire body." He finished the course in an hour and 40 minutes, first in his group, "with enough time to drink two beers before the next guy showed up."

Sanson didn't seem to be the publicity-hungry type, so it was natural to ask why he contacted the newspaper about his odyssey. It turns out the Death Race requires participants to generate a news story about their activity, or undergo 2,500 "weighted burpees" — five hours of grueling exercise — before setting out on the course.

So when you set out on your morning jog, give a thought to Sanson, whose goal for his fitness program is to live through it — and come out stronger.